Chapter 1: A Mother’s Sacrifice
Kamala Devi had never lived for herself. Every waking moment, every rupee she earned, every sacrifice she made was for her daughter, Nandini. As a young widow, she had no one else—only a little girl who needed love, care, and protection.
She had worked tirelessly as a schoolteacher, earning just enough to keep a roof over their heads and food on their plates. Every night, she corrected exam papers under a flickering lamp, her eyes strained with exhaustion, but her heart filled with hope.
Her dream? A secure future for Nandini.
Bit by bit, she saved money and, after decades of struggle, built a modest yet beautiful home. The walls were not just brick and mortar; they were the result of every hunger-stricken night, every festival she skipped celebrating to save money, every sari she stitched herself instead of buying new.
"This house," she often told Nandini, "is not just for me. It’s for you. One day, when I grow old, I will sit in this veranda and watch my grandchildren play."
She had envisioned a peaceful old age, surrounded by love. She never imagined that the very house she built would become her prison—and later, her battlefield.
Chapter 2: Marriage and False Promises
Nandini grew up to be an intelligent, ambitious woman. Kamala Devi took immense pride in her, ensuring she received the best education possible. When Nandini secured a well-paying job and later married Rohan, Kamala Devi believed her struggles had finally borne fruit.
"You should live with us, Maa," Nandini said after her wedding. "You’ve done so much for me. Now, it’s my turn to take care of you."
Kamala Devi smiled, her heart swelling with happiness.
After Nandini had two children, the house felt lively again. Kamala spent her days cooking for her grandchildren, telling them stories, and feeling a warmth she had longed for.
But soon, things began to change.
Chapter 3: The First Signs of Neglect
As the years passed, Kamala Devi began noticing a shift in her daughter’s behavior. It started with small things—Nandini becoming impatient, sighing whenever Kamala spoke, rolling her eyes when she needed help with chores.
Then came the restrictions.
"Maa, you should stay in your room upstairs," Nandini told her one day. "The kids need space to play downstairs."
Kamala Devi hesitated. "But my legs pain when I climb the stairs…"
"You should get used to it," Nandini said, dismissively.
Kamala asked if she could have a small room on the ground floor, but her request was ignored. Instead, she was forced to live in a cramped space on the first floor, where she spent most of her days alone.
The laughter of her grandchildren faded into distant echoes. She could hear them playing downstairs, but she was no longer welcome among them.
She was in her own house, yet she felt like a stranger.
Chapter 4: Abandoned in Sickness
One winter night, Kamala Devi fell ill. Her body ached, fever burned through her, and she could barely stand.
"Nandini," she called weakly from her room. "Beta, I need to see a doctor. Please take me to the hospital."
Nandini sighed. "Maa, don’t be dramatic. It’s just a fever. Take some rest."
"But I feel very weak," Kamala whispered. "I can’t even walk properly."
"Then call an ambulance yourself," Nandini snapped. "Rohan and I have work."
Tears welled in Kamala’s eyes. She had raised Nandini with such care, never letting her suffer even a mild cold. And now, her daughter wouldn’t even take her to the hospital.
Summoning whatever strength she had left, Kamala Devi called a neighbor, who rushed her to the hospital.
She was admitted for forty-five days.
Forty-five days in a cold hospital bed, with no one by her side.
Not once did Nandini visit. Not once did she call to ask how her mother was doing.
Kamala Devi lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if she had truly become invisible to the daughter she had raised with every ounce of love in her heart.
Chapter 5: Betrayal Beyond Imagination
When Kamala Devi was finally discharged, she longed to return to the warmth of her home. She climbed the stairs to her room, exhausted from the long illness, only to find the door locked.
Confused, she knocked.
A stranger opened the door—a relative from Rohan’s side.
"Yes?" he asked.
Kamala Devi’s heart pounded. "This… this is my room."
"Not anymore," the man said coldly. "Nandini gave it to me."
Tears pricked Kamala’s eyes as she turned to her daughter. "Beta… where should I sleep now?"
Nandini crossed her arms. "Maa, you were gone for months. We assumed you wouldn’t come back. Just go to an old age home."
Kamala Devi staggered back, unable to believe her ears.
"An… old age home?" she whispered.
"Yes. It’s better for everyone. You’ll be with people your own age," Nandini said indifferently.
Kamala felt her knees go weak. Her own daughter—the one she had sacrificed everything for—had given her room to strangers and was now throwing her out of her own house.
For the first time in her life, Kamala Devi felt truly alone.
Chapter 6: A Mother’s Cry for Justice
With nowhere to go, Kamala Devi wandered the streets until a kind neighbor, Meena, took her in.
"You cannot let them do this to you," Meena said fiercely. "You built that house. You have rights!"
With the help of the community, Kamala Devi approached a lawyer, Advocate Sharma.
"They have taken everything from me," she said, her voice shaking but firm.
"We will fight," the lawyer assured her.
A case was filed under Section 23 of the Maintenance and Welfare of Parents and Senior Citizens Act, 2007, which states that if an elderly person transfers their property under the expectation of care, and that care is denied, the transfer can be revoked.
The town stood behind Kamala. The case became a sensation, and when the court date arrived, the courtroom was packed.
Chapter 7: The Courtroom Showdown
Judge Prakash, a wise man with years of experience, listened patiently as both sides presented their arguments.
Nandini argued, "The house is legally mine! My mother gave it to me willingly."
The judge turned to Kamala Devi. "Did your daughter promise to take care of you?"
"Yes, Your Honor," Kamala whispered. "She said she would look after me. Instead, she threw me out."
The judge turned back to Nandini. "Did you visit your mother in the hospital?"
Nandini shifted uncomfortably. "I was busy."
"And when she returned, did you let her live in her own house?"
"She was gone for too long," Nandini said defensively. "We needed the room."
The judge’s voice turned sharp. "Your greed has blinded you. You have betrayed the very woman who gave you life!"
The courtroom was silent.
"The court declares the transfer null and void. Kamala Devi shall retain full ownership of the house. Furthermore, under Section 125 of the CrPC, the daughter is ordered to pay monthly maintenance to her mother."
A loud gasp filled the room.
Justice had been served.
Chapter 8: Homecoming and a Lesson for All
Kamala Devi stepped back into her house, running her hands over the familiar walls. The wounds of betrayal would take time to heal, but she had won.
As the town celebrated her victory, she stood tall—a symbol of resilience for every elderly parent wronged by their children.
And as for Nandini? She became a cautionary tale—a reminder that those who betray their parents do not go unpunished.
For every child who reads this, let it serve as a lesson:
Parents are not burdens. They are the roots that gave you life. Betray them, and you cut your own future. Honor them, and you ensure a legacy of love.
-advjk-
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